Silence In The Car

My oldest daughter just got her license, meaning I've been doing a tremendous amount of parenting. Much of that parenting is done after thinking back to my own behavior when I was the age she is now.  I don't see her as the type to try and lay J strips or to think she is Mario Andretti.

Today's big issue with teen driving (with everyone's driving for that matter) is distracted driving- namely texting or using a mobile device while driving. The good news for me is my daughter is already in the habit of putting her phone in her bag and putting it in the back seat- so that is a good thing. But it got me thinking about what my distracted driving looked like back in the late 80's and early 90's. Insert flashback.

We didn't have smart phones. We didn't have navs. We didn't have satellite radio. We had WBLM, 'TOS, WCLZ and a stack of tapes. Music was such a part of driving. We didn't make playlists- we made mix tapes and ran them until they tangled or snapped. New music was a big deal- we either heard it on the radio or hoped someone had the tape. Our version of "on demand" was to call in a request and wait all day and night to hear your song get played. You listed to the entire album because fast forwarding or rewinding (be kind, rewind) took too much time and silence in the car was not an option.

Hold for moment while I have a nostalgic moment.

Thank you for that.

Today I have more music than I can fathom. My Dad recently gave me a birthday card, in it was a small SD card- and a note: "50 albums you have to listen to". It takes some time to listen to that much music! Access to new music is just a stroll through YouTube or Pandora away. While I love music (it's playing while I write this)- I have found that it often doesn't make it into the car with me anymore.

The car has become a sanctuary for me, a sanctuary of silence. I can fall into my own head and either not think at all, or think very deeply. I don't know if that is because of how often I have to either talk or listen in my professional role, or that in a house with a teen, a pre-teen, and 70lb puppy that the idea of quiet is seen as very abstract. But it is my space to just be very zen.

The Sound of the Paddle

My paddle hit the water for my first stroke of the morning at 6 a.m., the fog hiding any sign of the loons that I could hear off in the distance.

The sound of the paddle entering the water, and then the drip of the water from the blade when I finished my stroke became the rhythm line of my morning. As I moved out a hundred or so feet off shore I was completely encased in fog, and the sound became that much more intense as my sense of sight seemed useless. I began to try and figure out what the sound of the paddle going into the water sounded like, and I couldn't really put a finger on it- but it was a sound of yielding. On the back half of the stroke when the water would drip off the paddle it was a sound of making something whole again.

Over and over.

The give and take resulted in my forward movement over the water. Isn't that how it should be? Give and take resulting in progress? I think so.